


When The Moon Is Full

by distantstarlight



Series: 221 B Barker Street [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Angst, Declarations Of Love, Devotion, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Use, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pack Family, Shapeshifting, Siblings, Tenderness, Terminal Illnesses, True Love, Virgin Sherlock, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 20,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock investigates mysterious sightings outside of London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of The Woods

**Author's Note:**

> I had a moment of inspiration and just went with it.

Being lost in the woods wasn't exactly how John had expected to spend the night but Sherlock had dashed down the lane after something and running automatically after him seemed to be John's destiny. Now he was good and lost. The sun had gone down at some point but not until Sherlock had veered off the lane to pound his way down twisty paths with John barely keeping up enough to maintain sight of his best friend. “Bastard!” panted John to himself as he finally lost sight of the younger man.

The rest of the night was cold and disturbing. There were sounds in the distance, sounds he couldn't quite make out and he never did locate Sherlock. John kept himself warm and awake by allowing himself to become entirely furious with Sherlock. So much for promises! After his long departure following his apparent suicide Sherlock had faithfully promised to never leave John again. Their friendship had haltingly resumed and had only recently returned to something like it had been before.

When Sherlock had cajoled John into coming to this remote countryside to look into strange sightings he'd been vague, telling John that he didn't want to presume out loud about his suspicions in case John noticed something that would change his perception. That this was one of the most complimentary things Sherlock had ever said about John stifled any complaints he had been about to make. Instead he'd simply insisted that Sherlock wear something other than a fine suit and got the lanky detective dressed in jeans, a jumper as well as sensible shoes.

Now John regretted leaving London at all! He'd spent the whole long night shuffling almost blindly through the trees, privately admitting that staying still was safer and more sensible, yet he was unable to stop trying to find the trail back to their rental car. It was dawn before he finally accidentally came across the path. There were no signs to help so John arbitrarily picked a direction and sighed with relief when he finally made it back to the vehicle.

He gasped with horror when he saw Sherlock crumpled up on the back seat. The young detective had lost his jumper somewhere and the whiteness of his shirt only exacerbated the paleness of his skin as he lay in the back seat trembling with cold. He was filthy from head to toe, soaked from apparently falling into a lot of water and he looked feverish. John instantly forgot his own weariness, all of his anger and harshly stomped on the panic that flooded through him.

Yanking open the door he worried even more when Sherlock didn't respond. Checking him over he felt the dry heat of Sherlock's forehead. John was further shocked when his best friend unexpectedly buried his face in John's shoulder. John felt a confusing surge of emotion when Sherlock seemed to press his teeth against his neck to scrape along his skin. It was tender where John had cut himself shaving yesterday. It hurt but the pain was almost erotic now except that the young man whimpered so fearfully. “I'm here Sherlock. I've got you. I've got to drive though. I'm taking us home.”

“John!” Sherlock's voice was weak and filled with terror. His eyes didn't open. “Home? Yes please John. I don't want to be here anymore.” John's heart broke. Sherlock was obviously traumatized but he couldn't see anything wrong with him. John ran his hands over Sherlock but apart from water and mud there wasn't anything apparently damaged. He knew he couldn't do anything more for his friend parked in the middle of nowhere at dawn so he satisfied himself by draping his coat over Sherlock's shoulders to keep him from getting chilled further from the dampness.


	2. 221B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has returned to London, anxious and afraid.

The drive back to London was filled with fear and anxiety. Everything seemed blurry and it was so warm in the car but John didn't dare turn down the heat. Sherlock was shivering and sometimes the doctor shivered with him. John kept checking his mirror but Sherlock's body was limp, swaying with the car's motions, his eyes unopened and his expression still fearful even in his fevered slumber. John wanted to tear himself to pieces but forced himself to remain in control of himself. Bypassing the hospital which Sherlock absolutely loathed John almost wept with relief when the front door of 221 finally came into view.

There was no one to call to help. Mrs Hudson was off visiting her sister. Mycroft and Lestrade had gone away for a week somewhere and John simply did not trust anyone else with Sherlock anymore. Not since he came back from the dead. Since then John had taken over every part of Sherlock's life that he was able to and made his friend his number one concern.

Getting up to 221B took nearly all of John's considerable strength. It wasn't that Sherlock was heavy. In fact he was light as a feather but his long arms and legs were troublesome. John might have been able to carry him like a bride but had to make do with an awkward fireman's carry. Sherlock's feet banged into the walls over and over again but John almost ruined his own back to make sure Sherlock's head barely moved. More than once John cursed his own diminutive height.

Muscles trembling John kicked his way into the flat and got Sherlock into his bedroom. John had rarely stepped foot in there but he ignored it all to strip Sherlock of every sodden stitch. Dumping it all into a hamper John checked Sherlock all over but found nothing apart from pale pink scrapes against the back of his neck. Sherlock must have fallen so many times to get as wet as he was and John was almost weeping with relief that nothing was damaged on his friend.

For a moment it all overwhelmed John. Sherlock had been in danger once again and John was ONCE AGAIN not there to help him! It couldn't be tolerated. Vowing to have some very stern words with Sherlock once he recovered John bent to the task of caring for his best friend.

His own clothes were damp now so John just rid himself of them and pulled on Sherlock's robe. He raced to the kitchen and put a kettle on for tea while he reheated a can of premade soup. Sherlock hated them but he needed something warm inside him as soon as possible and this was the easiest thing John had on hand. As soon as it was warm enough John poured it into one large mug, got tea made in another and went back to Sherlock.

John was running on automatic. He was exhausted from the long night of wandering through the damp woods, from hauling Sherlock up the stairs but his hand didn't tremble at all as he pulled Sherlock into his arms and spoon fed him one tiny bite at a time. He had to stroke Sherlock's throat a few times but after a bit he was swallowing the soup on his own. John didn't stop until it was all gone then he started with the tea. He had another spoon and he dribbled the sweetened tea carefully between Sherlock's lips until the entire cup was empty.

John set it all aside and gathered the limp form of the detective tight to him. The young man was only a tiny bit warmer for the soup and tea. John knew he needed to share every bit of warmth he had in order to keep him from slipping too far. The young man was ice cold now and when John wrapped his arm around him he felt like he was burning up by comparison. He felt like he was on fire. John pulled Sherlock's duvet up and cradled him in his arms. John had no thoughts about their near nudity, no concerns at all about being pressed against his friend while in his bed. His only thought was that Sherlock was alive when clearly he may not have been. It almost broke John. Tears he had no idea about were running down his face and into Sherlock's damp hair. Finally, against his will, John surrendered to his own limitations and fell asleep.


	3. Bitter Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John feels he has no real choices anymore. He has to protect himself.

Hours later he heard a firm baritone in his ear. “John? Why are we in bed naked together?” Sherlock sounded mildly curious. He was laying firmly in John's arms which had cinched around the narrow shoulders of the detective while Sherlock's arms had somehow wrapped themselves around John's waist.

“Sherlock you fucking ran away from me, almost drowned apparently, wouldn't wake up and nearly died of hypothermia! This probably saved your life you ungrateful wanker!” Infuriatingly John felt Sherlock simply shrug before he unwound himself and got out of bed gracefully. If he had been cold before he had gotten over it. Sherlock's body simply radiated heat now. John flushed when he looked at his best friend who was entirely unaware of the temperature of his flesh or the fact that not an inch of it was covered. Still naked Sherlock left the room and John lay there stunned as he heard the shower begin. 

John groused as he climbed out of bed. He didn't know why he was so surprised. Sherlock was a master at ignoring whatever he didn't feel like dealing with. John dropped Sherlock's robe onto the duvet, picked up his own damp clothing and climbed up to his room. He dressed quickly and went back downstairs. Tea was imperative at this point. A while later Sherlock joined him at the table, impeccably dressed and magnificently unconcerned.

John glared at him. Sherlock tried to not notice but eventually the unwavering anger that John was feeling pierced through and he glanced at the doctor. Sherlock winced then pretended he hadn't noticed anything. John's temper had reached it's limit. “Sherlock. We have to talk.”

Sherlock got up and glided away to the sofa. Draping himself over it he sank into the cushions and tried to ignore John but John wasn't having any of it. The younger man found himself yanked up into a sitting position with John's face squarely within view. “What?”

“What? You're asking me what? Sherlock you promised never to leave me like that! You PROMISED! Not only did you leave me behind but you almost died and I HAD TO WATCH AGAIN!” John was almost yelling. He'd yelled at Sherlock many times but somehow this time was worse. Sherlock flinched again. John was furious now. He tried to moderate his voice because he wanted Sherlock to understand.

John spoke in clipped clear tones even though his heart was tearing out of him. “It's clear to me that you do not care about our friendship the way I do. It's clear to me that again and again you will selfishly cause me to suffer with no thought to the cost I pay. It's clear to me that this friendship is one-sided and that I am carrying on with a man who does not care for me a jot. I told you what would happen if you left me again Sherlock. As soon as I can arrange it I'm moving out.”

He left the young man on the couch. Sherlock's face was shocked and pale but he had said nothing. John's heart broke some more. It was so obvious. Sherlock was accustomed to John but he didn't care for John, not the way John cared for him. Not in the least. Biting back a strange sound that wanted to escape from his chest John locked himself into his bedroom and tried to control his urge to scream out his frustration. He took the edge off by ripping the linens off his bed and throwing them angrily about the room.

Then he sorted through his things. John remade his bed neatly and began laying his clothes out in small piles. He dragged out a large and almost never used suitcase. John began to organize his possessions. He'd need a box for his books. Once he'd packed up his few clothes John pulled on the clean clothes he'd left out and went to the store to find an empty box. Sherlock was sitting on the couch where John had left him so John didn't spare him a glance. What was the point?

The store also had a board filled with adverts for bed-sits and flats for rent so John spent some time glumly looking them over. He ignored the burning behind his eyes and ordered himself not not cry. He wasn't going to cry over some heartless bastard who didn't care a bit for him. He was going to find someplace to hunker down and lick his wounds. It wasn't Sherlock's fault that John was madly in love with him. How could the young man know? Sherlock knew nothing of feelings and John had been very, very careful to not let his emotions slip. It was best if he just went, figure out how to delete Sherlock from his brain somehow and get on with his lonely life.


	4. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock reacts to John's decision.

Sherlock wasn't on the couch when John got back. It figured. He must have left as soon as the coast was clear. John fingered the handful of tabs stuffed in his pocket, all numbers for rentals that were available. He'd make some calls as soon as he could rent a room for the night. John had decided to stay in a hotel somewhere until he could rent a place of his own. He couldn't stay here another night. Storming angrily up to his room John stopped in shock.

Everything was unpacked and neatly re-hung. What was more shocking was Sherlock kneeling in the middle of the floor, head hung low and his hands wringing together nervously. The young man spoke softly, his deep voice almost inaudible. “John. John I beg of you. Please. Don't leave me. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know I'm cruel and thoughtless. I know I'm the worst person in the world for making you suffer again and again but please. Please. Please John. P...p...please d...do...don't go.” Sherlock's shoulders heaved and John was shocked to see tears rolling down those alabaster cheeks.

“Why shouldn't I go Sherlock? There's nothing for me here. You've made that plain.” John couldn't let this sway him. He'd watched Sherlock produce tears on demand a thousand times when on the case. This had to be a trick except that Sherlock had never before howled in despair and flung himself at John's feet. Before John knew it he was knocked to the floor and Sherlock's long arms were woven through his legs. 

Sherlock wept into John's lap and begged. “Please John! I'm so sorry. Please don't go. I can't live without you. You know I can't. I need you. Clearly I need you! All that time I was gone, all those months I was alone I missed you so much John. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do! I'm lost John. I'm lost and I need you I truly truly need you. Please. Please. Please. You're my best friend. My only friend. I need you!” Sherlock wept harder and clung to John's legs even more.

John was stunned. “How do you need me Sherlock? You don't need me to help with the rent. You're rich. You don't need me to help you on cases. You're brilliant. You can talk at your skull because when you talk to me you aren't looking for answers. In fact, I'm less important than the skull! You don't need me for anything at all. You don't care. You can't.” John was brutal. He tried to wiggle away but Sherlock was like an octopus. He swarmed up John's body and clung to him in as many ways as he could and howled in despair once again.

“No John no! You can't. You simply can't!” Sherlock flung himself away and curled up on the floor. His long elegant fingers tangled into his raven curls. He rocked back and forth, a picture of absolute grief and misery. “I can't stop you. I have no right to stop you but still John. I beg you. I beg of you. Please! Please help me be a better person! Please stay and help me be someone who deserves you. I hurt John. Inside I hurt and I don't know what it means.”

John was stunned. Sherlock wasn't dramatic unless it was for a case. In all their time together John had never witnessed an emotional outburst apart from anger! Suddenly Sherlock was on his feet and flying past John. A door slammed and John heard Sherlock being violently ill in the bathroom. He'd made himself sick! The thought of John leaving had made Sherlock become physically ill. John went after him.

Sherlock was hanging onto the toilet retching helplessly. He was a mess. He couldn't seem to stop and John knelt down behind him to stroke his long back soothingly. “Shh. Calm Sherlock. Try to breath. Try to breath. Shh.” John flushed the toilet and helped the still teary Sherlock to his feet. He'd never dealt with a devastated consulting detective before. He moistened a flannel with warm water and washed Sherlock's face before helping him rinse out his mouth.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and hung on tight as if John were going to bolt out of the flat and his life forever if he didn't. “Please John. I do care. I know I do. I'm stupid, entirely stupid. I can't even explain the most basic emotions I feel the way any child can! I need you John. I...IthinkIloveyou.” the last words were spoken very fast but not so fast that John missed the small tentative kiss that Sherlock pressed to his mouth.


	5. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John learns the truth the hard way.

John was stunned. Garbled or not he knew what he heard. Sherlock was saying he loved him! Sherlock said he loved him and then Sherlock had KISSED him. Sherlock had actually said he loved John! It all fell into place. Sherlock had deduced John and he KNEW! John's brows knitted together and he shoved Sherlock away feeling betrayed and horrified.

“How dare you! How dare you try to manipulate me like that! How dare you use my feelings for you to get your way!” John turned on his heels and marched out of the bathroom, completely outraged. Of all the scheming, twisted, selfish things to do! John made it nearly all the way back to his room when he heard it. Another door had shut almost silently and a lock clicked shut with a finality that stopped John in his tracks. Sherlock had gone to his own room but John could still hear through the walls. Sobs. Stifled sobs but sobs nonetheless. Sherlock.

John froze again when he heard Sherlock argue with himself. “He hates me. Well who wouldn't? You're an unfeeling bastard with no heart. Everyone knows that. I told him how I felt didn't I? What was the point! I'll let him leave. It's best. I can't let him leave. I need him. He doesn't need me. He's better off on his own. He'll find a lady to settle down with. Have a f...f...family. I can't give him that. I'm useless. I'm worthless. He might have cared once but he doesn't anymore. I did it myself. I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry John. I'm sorry. I love him but it's too late isn't it. He's going. It's best. It's really.....really f....for...for the best. It won't be long. I'll wait in here and he'll go. It's for the best. It's for the best. It's for the best. It's for the best. It's for the best.”

Sherlock only repeated himself when he was sincerely off balance. If John knew nothing about his best friend he knew that. He never stuttered either unless he was close to losing control. John knew that too. John was stunned. It hadn't been an act. Sherlock wasn't manipulating him. The young strange man had tried to be truthful and John had spat it back in his face when Sherlock was at his lowest. What had John done! He'd never felt so wretched.

John sank down onto the stairs, completely incapable of moving or thinking. Sherlock's near silent sobs finally faded away. Each one had torn at John. There was nothing but silence in the flat. John sat there, still unable to snap out of his daze. At long last he heard Sherlock moving around his room, drawers opening and closing and then silence again. “S'for the best.” Sherlock sounded slurred and John panicked.

“Sherlock let me in.” John rapped at the bedroom door but there was no answer. He rattled the knob but it was locked tight. “Sherlock open the door or I'm kicking it in!” Nothing. John made good on his threat and kicked the door open. He was nearly sick when he looked at the bed.

Sherlock had stripped himself down to his pants and lay sprawled boneless on his duvet. The pinprick of red on his inner arm and the small black box on the bedside end table told John everything. Sherlock had given himself something.....cocaine? Heroine? John leapt toward him, straddling that too thin body to shake his shoulders. He was screaming at Sherlock, begging him to open his eyes but Sherlock wouldn't. John came to his senses long enough to stab 999 on his mobile and babble out their address. It took forever for the paramedics to arrive and the ride to the hospital was hell.


	6. Frantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting and not knowing can be nearly impossible to endure.

They wouldn't let John stay with Sherlock. Once they arrived at the hospital he was firmly if politely asked to stay in reception. John paced anxiously. He left message after message with Mycroft and Lestrade. Hours went by and no one told him a thing. He was tearing his hair out. His hip hurt so badly he nearly fell as he paced back and forth endlessly.

Finally an elevator door opened and Mycroft glided out with the kind of calm grace only a Holmes could manifest. Lestrade was right behind his husband and looked as anxious as John felt. “John?” asked Mycroft.

“It's my fault. I got mad at him when he told me he loved me and I didn't realize he was telling me the truth so he locked himself in his room and took something and no one will tell me if he's okay and IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!!” Mycroft blinked one time. John was hysterical with fear and panic.

“I see. Gregory my dear, if you don't mind.” Mycroft glided away and Lestrade smacked John hard across the face. John gasped in shock and stared up at the silvering Detective Inspector.

“Idiot. Snap out of it. Myc will get it all sorted. Sit yourself down and tell me everything.” John did. He told the tale about how Sherlock had wanted to investigate a piece of abandoned woodland. He told Lestrade about how they'd gotten separated. He went over how long he'd wandered, how shocked he'd been when he finally found Sherlock in the car. He went over everything that followed completely unaware that tears rolled down his face with every word. Lestrade looked at him.

“It's about fucking time you two got that out. Myc and I actually wondered if we were going to have to sit down and have a little talk with you both.” John was stunned. He didn't quite know how to process what Greg was telling him. Lestrade gave a small laugh. “We've known you two were in love with each other for ages now. What took you so long to admit it?” John was still stunned and couldn't speak.

Just then Mycroft glided through the far door. He nodded at John and held the door open. John raced through it and went down a long hallway until he came to a room that held the love of his life. Sherlock was unconscious still but he wasn't limp and dead looking anymore. He was just asleep. John didn't think. He just climbed right up onto the narrow bed and took Sherlock gently into his arms. He tugged until Sherlock's arms were around his waist and only then did John close his eyes. He breathed in the sharp smell of Sherlock, that strange combination of expensive colognes and bitter chemicals. He stroked his fingers through those soft curls and petted him everywhere his hands could reach.

Mycroft was having a firm word with the floor nurse who had issues with John's presence. “If you try to remove Doctor Watson from my little brother I will have you fired and thrown right out of the country.” The tall man threatened softly. With an insulted sniff the nurse left. Mycroft simply shut the door and left the two of them alone.


	7. Begin Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John needs Sherlock to know something, something important.

John rocked Sherlock gently. He stroked his soft skin and murmured loving promises into his ear. “I'll never leave you Sherlock. I love you. I'll always be with you. Stay with me and I'll stay with you. I'll be your John and you'll be my Sherlock and we'll be happy. Don't leave me behind because you know I'll follow. I always do. I'll follow you anywhere. I always have. Don't leave me. Be my darling. Stay here with me and just stay.”

Hours went by. John never let Sherlock go and glared at anyone who came in to check Sherlock's vitals. He growled when people touched them and didn't stop bristling until they'd left them alone once again. He didn't like other people touching Sherlock. Right now he wished he could be somewhere safe and alone. No one else understood how to care for Sherlock the way he did. John didn't notice the fear in the eyes of the nurses as they made their rounds or the growl that didn't stop until they were safely out of the room.

A meal was brought in. John ignored it. Sherlock didn't like anything on the tray so it was unimportant. Mycroft came back with Greg eventually. “You'll be allowed to go home as soon as my little brother wakes up. I have a car waiting for you outside. Thank you for your kind attentions Doctor Watson.” That said both of them simply left.

“Mycroft?” rumbled Sherlock sleepily. He was finally waking! John kissed his forehead and almost wept again when Sherlock automatically coiled around him tightly. “John! Oh John. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything.”

“Shh darling. Shh. It's fine now. It's all fine. Tell you what. We're going to start all over again, how's that. We'll start again and it will all be new. One thing though Sherlock. Look at me.” Sherlock raised his face slightly and John made sure he was looking right into those iridescent eyes. “I love you. I want to be everything for you, anything you'll let me be. I'll never leave you. I swear it.”

Sherlock looked so surprised. Then gratitude flooded his features and he looked so young, so helpless that John's heart ached for the pain he had caused his friend. He knew Sherlock was delicate in so many ways. That's why the young man needed to be so abrasive, to hide how he really felt about things. It was a defense mechanism. Sherlock needed protecting from the world, not more anger. John felt so ashamed of himself all over again.

“I love you John. I'm sorry for making such a mess of everything. Thank you. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for my new chance. I won't waste it. You won't ever need to regret it.” Sherlock looked unsure and bit his lower lip. John tilted his face up and slowly pressed a kiss to it. Sherlock shivered and sighed before melting into John's arms. John was swept away on a tide of possessiveness and ownership.

Sherlock's head fell gently back and without thinking John bit his neck firmly, worrying at the flesh until the skin nearly broke and sucked until a brilliant bruise formed. Sherlock hummed with satisfaction and shivered again when John soothed the bruise with a loving lick. Both of them chuckled softly when Sherlock suddenly stretched hugely, his long lean frame taking up nearly every corner of the small bed.

John nuzzled his dark curls, “Let's go home darling. Your brother left a car waiting for us.” Mycroft had also left clothes for both of them. John had no idea when they'd arrived but he was grateful for the change and helped Sherlock dress. Sherlock was quiet and didn't protest anything. That had John a little worried. Still he wasn't going to rock the boat, not until they were home safe and sound.

The ride didn't take long. Sherlock simply curled up on the large seat and lay his head on John's lap. John ran his fingers obsessively through Sherlock's hair and patiently waited to get home. When they arrived Sherlock sat up and exited the vehicle with his normal unearthly grace. It wasn't until they had to door locked shut behind them that he finally spoke. “John. Thank you for staying. I understand how foolish I've been, that I've learning nothing at all about how to treat your feelings with respect. I vow to change that. I'm tired. I can't hide how I feel about you anymore. I don't want to and I hope you don't want to either. I'm entirely ignorant though so I'm not sure how to behave or what to do.”

Sherlock shifted nervously and John was the one melting now. Of course Sherlock had no idea! No one had ever taken the time to help him with anything remotely emotional. John berated himself for his outburst that began this whole dreadful debacle. “Sherlock. I promised to never leave and I meant it. I want this new beginning more than anything and I want to be here to help you through anything I can. We'll learn together, alright? This is new and powerful for both of us so I think it's best if we just take it easy, take things slow.”

Sherlock looked nervous and almost upset. John smiled and stepped up to pull the younger man into his arms. He kissed Sherlock tenderly and let him know with his body how much he loved him. Sherlock shivered again. “Thank you John.” He kissed John back then bit his lip. “John you smell awful.”

John burst out laughing. It had been more than a couple of very rough days since he'd had a chance to shower. “I'll take a shower. Order in some food okay? I won't be long.” Sherlock nodded so John gave him another quick kiss and went to clean himself up. The shower was very welcome. He let the warm water flow over him but nothing heated him up the way Sherlock did by unexpectedly pressing his naked self to John's back.

“I can wash your hair for you.” he murmured, his deep voice sending pleasured shock waves through John's entire body. Without another word Sherlock tilted John's head back and gently worked in some of his own very expensive shampoo. Long fingers massaged John's hair and tenderly sluiced the foam away before stroking in the matching conditioner. John leaned back onto Sherlock's narrow chest and allowed himself to be groomed. Sherlock was very attentive and gentle. When he was done he helped John wash all over. It was loving and oddly not sexual.

John smiled when they were through. He and Sherlock just got out of the shower to dry off. They laughed a bit as they toweled each other's backs off and roughly dried their hair. Both of them burst out laughing when John fluffed Sherlock's hair up in a messy nest that stuck out everywhere before collapsing back in on itself into it's trademark curls.

They dressed in pajamas and robes. John made tea while Sherlock ran heedlessly downstairs to collect their food delivery. He thundered right back up again and John shook his head with a small smile. To think, he'd nearly walked away from all this. “I ordered Chinese. I got the dumplings you like.” Well that was a surprise. Usually when Sherlock could be arsed to order food he got everything he liked and John would just eat around it.


	8. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is very definite about some things and has no problem letting it be known.

The next couple of weeks unfolded in a combination of their old lives and their new lives. Outside 221B things were as they had always been. John worked occasionally. Sherlock took cases from the Yard and some nights they would be racing through the streets of London chasing criminals and connecting clues together. There was a subtle change in how they behaved toward one another and Greg was the first one to point it out.

“Is Sherlock on some kind of medication? I've never seen him so calm. Shagging really works for him doesn't it.” John and Greg were taking shelter from a very brisk breeze by standing close to an alley wall while Sherlock zipped back and forth deducing.

John looked up at Greg sharply. “We haven't shagged.” He said tersely and willed Greg to just drop it but of course he didn't.

“What? I would have thought....” His mouth snapped shut when he took in John's expression. It was dark and almost angry.

“Don't think. Don't ever come close to thinking about Sherlock that way. It's not your business nor anyone's business what we do or how we do it. We're together and that's all anyone need worry about.” John was leaning forward, menacing Greg slightly and the older man drew back.

“Sorry mate. Didn't mean to step on toes. He's like my own little brother though. No disrespect but after the overdo...” John punched Greg right in the nose and watched him drop to the ground in surprise. John leaned over the Detective Inspector.

“You may be married to Sherlock's brother but you will NEVER speak of that ever again. You will NEVER infer, imply, interpret or in any other way HINT about our lives together. It. Is. Not. Your. Business.” John was seeing red. Anderson bustled over, demanding to know why Lestrade was on his arse. When Anderson tried to push John back he was startled when John growled fiercely at him. Sherlock's head peeked around Donovan who was trying to make notes as Sherlock shouted out his deductions. Leaving her standing there Sherlock came right over.

He put his arm in John's and looked down at the doctor. “We're done here. I've obviously helped too much if the Yard has time to cause extra trouble. Come along John. I want to go home.”

Just like that they left. John was wound up and tense. Sherlock said nothing. He even paid for the taxi and unlocked the door so John could storm upstairs to fling himself in his chair. Sherlock folded himself up and sat by John's feet. After letting John steam for a minute he leaned over and rest his cheek on John's lap. When John began carding his fingers through Sherlock's hair both of them relaxed.

“I don't know why I did that. Greg was just making small talk. I got so mad so fast. Mycroft is going to go spare when he finds out I decked his husband.” Sherlock inched closer and John finally patted his lap. Sherlock was on it in a heartbeat, his long slim body molding itself to the smaller man's. John kissed Sherlock's cheek tenderly. “Greg thought we were shagging and said it calmed you down. When I told him we weren't and I saw his face I don't know what happened. I was furious. I didn't want him to pry into our personal lives. He's got no right! What happens or doesn't happen between us is no one's concern but ours.”

Sherlock looked upset. “I knew it! You do want sex. John!” Sherlock was about to say something but John just covered his mouth with his hand before the younger man tried to apologized for being inexperienced. It was a quality that John found quite moving and precious.

John kissed Sherlock's cheek again, “Shh darling. I'm in no rush. If and when we decide to move to that part of our relationship it will be because we're both ready and not because people think we ought to! When Lestrade mentioned you being in the hospital after the woods I didn't think at all. I just hit him. If you hadn't come over I would have hit Anderson as well.”

Now Sherlock looked very upset. “I should have waited!” he cried and John laughed. Trust Sherlock to be upset at a missed chance to see Anderson punched. Sherlock grinned down at John and gave him a rare kiss on the cheek. Sherlock wasn't used to being physically affectionate but he tried. This was what John wanted from him, a natural progression from friends to lovers. Forcing it just to say they'd done it was horrifying to both of them.

“Darling I can't hit officers. I'm lucky Greg isn't arresting me right now. As it is we can expect your brother to...” there was a sharp knock on the door and John closed his eyes with resignation. Sherlock stood up and flowed to the door.

“Mycroft. How lovely to see you dear brother. Do come in.” Mycroft stepped into their apartment and looked down at John. Sherlock merely folded himself back up onto the floor and leaned on John's legs completely unconcerned.

“John.” said Mycroft softly. John looked up and stared directly at Mycroft who seemed to lose some of the backbone he'd had. “Gregory called and asked me to come by to offer his apology. He's getting his nose set at the moment. He tells me he has egregiously overstepped his bounds and offended you.” Mycroft sounded doubtful.

John barked out a laugh. “Fuck me. Well Greg can keep his sorry. I don't need it. In fact I'll give him one back for breaking his nose. I'll throw in a warning for free. I don't like people prying into my life. I know you've watched over your brother closely but I have not given you permission to nose about our affairs. If and when we need assistance you can rest assured that we will ask. If at any point we decide we wish to randomly share bits of our lives with you we will. As it stands I expect the same courtesy we offer you to be given back to us. We have never asked how you live your personal lives. Not once.”

“Very well John. As you wish. Brother.” With a small nod Mycroft simply turned and left. Sherlock gaped at the door.

“He never gives in so easily! You broke Greg's nose! He didn't even threaten you. That was amazing!” Sherlock climbed back into John's lap and kissed him tenderly. “My Captain.” he said so admiringly that John almost blushed. He petted Sherlock for a minute until they were both soothed. Getting up they went about their normal routine of tea and dinner before settling into their new routine of being together.


	9. Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They know how they feel. What are they going to do about it?

Some of it was like it was before. They'd eat dinner. John would have to almost force Sherlock to have more than a few bites. They'd settle on the sofa to watch crap telly but now they cuddled. Sherlock was incredibly affectionate but extremely shy about being so. He had to ease into it slowly. John absolutely loved the entire process.

Sherlock would begin by sitting normally. He'd fidget then until he'd managed to get close enough to John so that their legs touched. He'd fidget some more until John put his arm around his shoulder. If the movie was frightening or romantic, Sherlock would lay his head on John's lap to have his hair petted. At the end of the night they'd exchange kisses of varying degrees of intensity before John walked Sherlock back to his room for a final kiss goodnight.

Those nights were both painful and sweet for John. On one hand he was deliriously in love with Sherlock and cherished every hard won intimacy. He practically floated through his day because of it. There were definite benefits. Now John didn't have to hide the fact that he watched Sherlock play his violin. He'd gape openly now as Sherlock's willowy body swayed and danced as he lost himself. John adored just watching Sherlock. On the other hand...look at him.

Skin so pale it glowed in the dim light of the flat. Sherlock more often than not prowled around wearing his pajamas and robe. That would have been fine except his pajamas may as well not have existed since they were so thin and they clung! Oh how they clung. Sherlock's favorite robe was richly colored and only enhanced the jewels that were his eyes. Those wild dark curls. His mouth. John had to stop thinking at this point and try to compose himself. Sherlock was as timid as a deer. If John rushed Sherlock would flee in a confused panic.

It was a strange courtship. Outside 221B everything was exactly the same. Sherlock was haughty and rude with his deductions, castigating everyone who hampered his investigations in any way until he'd finally solved the latest puzzle. Everywhere they went John was faintly aware of some delicate perfume wafting around. Sometimes it was strong and sometimes it was faint. It was delectable though and even though he didn't realize, John salivated whenever he caught a whiff of it. He seemed to notice it more and more.

At home they were like two dancers moving to a song that only they could hear. Near and far they moved together. Sometimes closer sometimes further. John knew his friend better than anyone and understood when to allow his hands to glide through those raven coils or when to keep their conversation light and friendly. Sherlock observed as he always did, recording his own actions and reactions ruthlessly, compiling the data he needed to progress. When he was ready Sherlock would allow more. John waited and watched, awed like he always was when Sherlock was chasing a concept.

When they were on a case Sherlock's mind moved faster than ever, he seemed to find the evidence he required with even greater speed. Unfortunately, Sherlock's ability to maintain his composure with anyone but John became nonexistent. Nearly four weeks after John had driven back from those damp woodlands Sherlock's mouth got them thrown out of the Yard.


	10. Bored!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has an idea on how to combat boredom.

Sherlock called Greg and Mycroft instantly but no amount of near begging or threats had swayed either of them to use their influence to allow Sherlock to continue The Work. “You've pissed off every single person who works for this division! Take a break. Get out of town. We'll call you in a week or so.”

Greg was unbending. He shouted Sherlock down through the phone in words so loud John heard them from all the way across the living room. In no uncertain terms was Sherlock allowed back at the Yard until various tempers were soothed and professional relationships repaired. Sherlock sulked. He flung himself to the sofa and lay there, dramatically limp with one arm thrown over his eyes. The rest of him was sprawled out however he had landed. It looked uncomfortable but then Sherlock didn't seem to lack for almost acrobatic flexibility.

John forced himself to go make a cup of tea. He couldn't sooth Sherlock out of this. It was too soon. John also couldn't sit in his chair and look at Sherlock laid out like that, vulnerable and tempting. For a minute John had to grip the edge of the counter tight to keep himself from just stalking into the next room and kissing Sherlock out of his mood. Patience. He needed patience.

“Bored John.” Already? He'd barely sulked for ten minutes. Sherlock usually milked a strop like this for hours if not days. John didn't reply. He just concentrated on making tea, carefully measuring in only two spoons of sugar for Sherlock's tea. Sometimes John wondered if he should just tip some tea into the sugar bowl and hand it over to Sherlock who's sweet tooth was ridiculous. “John. I said I'm bored.”

The voice that had come from the sofa was now directly behind John's ear. It was also noticeably lower. Throatier. Everything in John's body rushed south. His grip on the teaspoon was the only indication he gave to Sherlock about how affected he was by those baritone rumbles. What John could not resist was that mouth kissing the shell of his ear. Sherlock's lips were soft and the kiss was so delicate.

John's knees gave out. Sherlock caught him effortlessly and hauled John's unresisting body tight against his long lean form. “Warm.” was all John's brain was able to process. John's entire body was intensely aware of every warm inch of skin now shared between the two of them. Sherlock was burning hot.

“John you smell absolutely delicious. Have I told you that?” Now Sherlock was running his nose slowly over John's neck, breathing him in delicately. John shivered all the way down to his toes when he felt that warm breath huff over him. “Absolutely edible.” whispered Sherlock who shocked John further by nibbling at his jaw. John would have fallen right to the floor if Sherlock hadn't held him so tightly.

“Sherlock. I think I need to get off my feet.” John's voice was raspy and low. He felt desperate. He needed to backtrack somehow to a point where he was the one in control of the situation. Instead he found himself being shepherded into Sherlock's room at a brisk pace. It happened so fast John almost couldn't believe his feet had moved at all. To him it seemed almost instantaneous. “This wasn't what I meant.”

“Oh but it's what I meant John. We've been coy long enough don't you think? There's something about the way you smell tonight, the way you look, the way you taste....” here Sherlock dazed John with deep searing kiss. “Oh the way you taste. Mmm.”

One little sound and John was almost there. Sherlock sounded so aroused and so satisfied at the same time. Somehow he'd packed an entire library of suggestive innuendo into that one small noise. “Sherlock. We seem to be moving fast here. Are you sure you want to do this? We've barely kissed.”

“Oh John. I want this. Definitely. The last few days have been absolute hell for me. You've been smelling better and better every single day and it's driving me mad. I can't concentrate. I can't focus. I can't think. All I want to do is taste you everywhere.” Oh god. John's brain stopped taking requests at this point. Sherlock somehow peeled both of them out of their clothes until they were both wearing only their pants. John's were red cotton and Sherlock's were a deep blue silk.


	11. Zero to Sixty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock wants what he wants. John wants it too but he's such a gentleman.

They stared at one another. Sherlock let his eyes wander up the rocky expanse of John's war scarred body. When they made contact with John's they seemed to catch fire. John groaned before allowing Sherlock to press him back into the pillows.

Sherlock was nothing if not thorough. He trailed his tongue over John's body, paying intent attention to every single inch of him. He moaned nearly as much as John did, as if the arousal John felt was shared instantly with Sherlock. After roaming for an eternity Sherlock moved up to kiss John's mouth. He panted and groaned as John's hands tangled into Sherlock's hair. Sherlock whined, “John! I don't know what I want. I want something very badly though. I need you to give it to me. Please. I need it.”

John's brain fizzed out for a second time. When he gained marginal control over himself he found that he had somehow switched places with Sherlock. Now John had the tall man trapped beneath his body. John liked the view very, very much. He liked it even more when Sherlock threw his head back, baring his long gorgeous neck enticingly.

John bit. Hard. Both men groaned. When John pulled back he could see the marks his teeth had left clearly at the base of Sherlock's neck. He ran a soothing tongue over the ravaged flesh and the red seemed to fade. Sherlock moaned and writhed beneath him. “Mine.” growled John.

Sherlock sounded almost ecstatic, “Yours!” and those long legs wrapped around John's waist. John's brain shut down for a while. This time when his thoughts grew less foggy he found that he and Sherlock were rutting together, their hard bodies twisting and thrusting against one another. Sherlock sounded almost desperate and moaned brokenly, “More. I need more!”

“Anything you want, beautiful.” promised John hotly. He was only mildly surprised when Sherlock pushed away only long enough to pull open his bedside drawer. The detective flushed a bit when he produced a small bottle of lube but John just plucked it out of his hand. He distracted Sherlock with a series of teasing kisses until he could reach between the young man's legs to stroke over his tenderest parts gently.

At the first touch John didn't expect the flurry of arms and legs or for Sherlock to twist right out of his arms with lightning speed. He certainly didn't expect the young man to casually rearrange himself on hands and knees, somehow magically naked and presenting himself brazenly for John. “Too fast Sherlock. We should be going slower. I need to prepare you.”

John was struggling for self control. He wanted nothing more than to plunge himself deep between those amazing ass cheeks and deep into that slim lithe body. Sherlock sounded petulant and impatient, “Don't want to wait John! Now!” and he reared back but John, hazy as he was with lust, wasn't going to be pushed.

Sherlock was demanding. Every time John's fingers stroked over him Sherlock would rear back again, desperate to impale himself on John at the earliest opportunity. Finally John shoved the man face down onto the mattress and pinned his legs wide open. “Yes John! Just like that!” moaned Sherlock who writhed against the sheets, hot and dripping. John's finger breached Sherlock's entrance and the young man finally stilled. “Hurts!”

“I know it does love. Try to relax. This will make it easier. Relax Sherlock. I'll take care of you.” John's erection was painful. He wanted to do exactly as Sherlock had been demanding. He just wanted to fuck as hard as he could for as long as he could last. He slid his heavily lubed finger slowly past the first ring of muscles and almost came in his pants when he felt the overwhelming heat of his lover.

“Johnnn!” Sherlock's moan was low and sultry. John had to bit his lip hard to keep from plunging his hand recklessly into that tempting heat. He forced himself to work one finger at a time in until he had three sliding in and out with ease. Sherlock's moans were wicked and impassioned. John's brain shut down entirely when he heard his next words, “Fuck me John. Take that fucking hard cock I can smell and just fuck me!”


	12. Virgin No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gives Sherlock exactly what he needs.

John was running entirely on his limbic system now. With barely a moment to get rid of his pants and slick himself with handful of lube he pressed the flared head of his thick cock to Sherlock's very willing ass. He was gasping harshly as he worked the head into that virgin entrance. Sherlock was shaking, his narrow hips gyrating and rocking. John tried to go slow. He eased in a couple of inches, growling with the effort of holding himself back.

It was pointless. Sherlock reared back hard and John was buried right down to his balls. Both men almost snarled. It was incredible. The tightness. The heat. The fact that they could feel one another's heartbeats thundering. That scent! That glorious powerful smell that overwhelmed John's animal senses and took all his choices away.

John was riding Sherlock hard and fast. The young man just cried out and begged for John to give him more. Sherlock was on his elbows, his long back arching up and down as he responded to the demands of his flesh. John's hands were holding those slim gorgeous hips and his eyes were fixed on the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Sherlock's ass.

It was perfect. As the only plush part of the long lean man apart from his lips it was a glorious example of it's kind. It was so firm. Pale. It shook ever so gently when John shoved especially hard. Those twin globes became John's fixation and soon he was fucking Sherlock harder than ever just to see that enticing bounce and jiggle.

John spread his knees a little wider and changed the angle of his thrusts just a bit. Sherlock almost shrieked. “Oh god! John! What was that! Do it again!” his prostate. John grinned and did it again. Now Sherlock's cries and moans were as intoxicating as seeing his perfect ass rhythmically bouncing up and down.

John's brain shut down piece at a time. He was unable to focus on anything. He was all cock now, shoving himself deep into that dark confine. All he could focus on was more, more, more. It was going to happen. He felt the tightness across his lower belly, felt his balls draw up tight, felt his whole body stiffen. He managed to let go of one delicious hip and reached around to grasp Sherlock's cock for the first time. It was long, narrow and hard as stone. John pulled slowly.

“JOHN!” Sherlock barked out his name roughly and John felt his hand fill with a hot wetness that seemed to throb. Sherlock collapsed forward onto the bed moaning and shaking and John just couldn't stop his hips from driving down in a bruising series of snaps. His orgasm ripped through him. He heard Sherlock's moans and heard his own voice cry out brokenly as his cock pulsed and emptied deep inside his lover. It was too much. John slumped forward and panted harshly against the long smooth expanse of Sherlock's sweat soaked back.

Several minutes floated by before John was able to remove himself gently. John was a considerate lover and now that the heat of passion was gone John wanted to make sure his lover was alright. Sherlock wouldn't look at him. He hid his face in his pillow and curled up tight. John realized that now that he'd had his release Sherlock had gone right back into being shy and timid where only a few minutes ago he'd been wanton and unabashed.

John pressed himself tenderly to Sherlock's back and stroked him softly. He petted his arms, ran loving fingers through his hair and soothed him until Sherlock uncurled a little. “That was beautiful my darling. Come here. It's okay.” Sherlock twisted around and put his head on John's shoulder. Long arms wiggled under and over John as did long lean legs until the soldier was wrapped up tight in a human cocoon. Smiling tenderly at the mop of curls now under his nose he continued soothing and petting his young lover. It was Sherlock's first time after all. It was a lot of data to process.

“I feel sticky John.” both men giggled. It was completely the wrong time to laugh which is of course why they did it. Inappropriate laughter was a cornerstone of their relationship. Sherlock nuzzled John's chest and John felt the young man's face grow warmer as he blushed. “Would you like to shower with me?”

Oh Sherlock! So bashful. John kissed the top of his head tenderly, “I'd love that. Come on darling. Let's get cleaned up.” Sherlock unwrapped himself from his doctor and helped the older man out of bed. Though his cheeks remained a lovely pink he didn't try to cover himself as they went to the bathroom. 

When they were finally under the water Sherlock carefully washed John all over. He was almost reverent about it. His long fingers stroked everywhere. He washed John's hair again and rinsed out the conditioner after with extreme tenderness. He then suffered to let John wash him in return though Sherlock had to kneel to let his hair get done. That made them both giggle again and then it was just fun.

They shaved one another. They were laughing like children while they were doing it and both of them ended up with a couple of nicks that would never have happened if they'd been able to control their giggles. Sherlock had very little body hair and he was fascinated with John's. “There's so much of it. It goes all the way down.”

John rolled his eyes as Sherlock mapped out the variety of hairs on John's body. He ran curious fingers through his chest hair and followed John's treasure trail all the way down. “Keep that up darling and you'll be in for another round before you know it.” Sherlock stood up so fast he almost banged his head into John's. His face was also scarlet.


	13. Curious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock loves new information.

John just grinned up and giggled when Sherlock bit his lip adorably. He was so clearly out of his depth here so John just pulled him in for a warm hug. “Apologies John. I had no intention of reengaging I just wanted to learn.” He realized what that sounded like as soon as he said it and his face flushed all over again.

Of course Sherlock was curious. That was 95% of his personality. John gave the young man a squeeze and just said, “Well, let's dry off and you can look all you want. Come on.” He led Sherlock out of the shower. Drying off was fun again and Sherlock relaxed once more. John took him back to the bedroom.

He quickly straightened the bed out and lay himself back onto the pillows. “Go ahead. You can look to your heart's content. No hanky panky, I promise.” Sherlock blushed again but knelt beside John. John lay back and breathed his way through the most intense inspection he'd ever had in his entire life.

Sherlock literally mapped every inch of John's body. John could practically see the data flowing up and into Sherlock's brain. He wondered if there was a special place in Sherlock's mind palace for him or if he was scattered about in different departments like evidence. Sherlock used as many of his senses as he could. He observed with his eyes first. Then he followed with touch, running his fingers gently over John's body, tactile in a way he'd never allowed himself to be before. He followed with his mouth, tasting John's various scars and different parts of John's skin, commenting softly on the differences. He smelled John, all over. He made the soldier roll over time and time again as he examined him back and front. Sherlock even went so far as to press an ear to different locations, listening to John breath or his heart beat, or how his stomach made hungry sounds and even to the pulse of blood in the arteries of his leg.

At long last Sherlock pulled away. Wordless he climbed off the bed and into his pajamas and robe before disappearing from the room. John got up with a wry smile. He dressed himself the same way and went out to make tea and order some food. As he suspected Sherlock was parked on the sofa, fingers tented up and his eyes closed. He was in his mind palace and sorting through everything he'd just experienced. John smiled and loved the sight of it.

Sherlock was still lost in thought by the time the meal arrived. John set it out on the table and made tea. When he had two cups ready he brought one over to Sherlock and called softly, “Dinner's on the table.”

Sherlock's eyes were moving back and forth behind his eyelids but they stopped suddenly. His eyes opened and locked onto John's. For a minute John could see the end of time in that iridescent gaze and he stopped breathing. The spell was broken when Sherlock smiled, “Thank you John.”

Sherlock got off the couch in one smooth motion and took John's arm. John almost floated away. He was completely off his head in love with the tall man at his side. Sherlock kissed John's cheek tenderly before seating him. “I ordered a lot. I was hungry.” explained John when Sherlock looked over the rather large selection of containers arrayed in front of them. With an elegant shrug Sherlock simply divided everything up and filled both their plates to overflowing.

Sherlock rarely ate. When he did eat he pecked at his food as if it offended him to have to bow to his transports clearly pedestrian urges for nutrition. Tonight though all that was out the window. Both men almost attacked their substantial meal. Sherlock stole bites right off John's fork more than once and soon each of them were stealing so much from one another that they ate up every scrap in a blink. They ignored the fact that the stealing started to look like they were feeding one another. Rather tenderly.

Sherlock hadn't changed enough that he'd help afterward though. He slunk away while John washed up the kitchen and disposed of everything. Sherlock went back to his mind palace, opting this time to lay back on his cushions to continue filing. John made tea again and set the cups down on the coffee table. He was just seating himself in his chair when Sherlock's eyes snapped open. “What are you doing?” he demanded angrily.

“Sitting?” replied John, somewhat confused. Sherlock glared at him then deliberately extended his arm to the side. John shook his head and smiled softly. Standing up again he went over to the sofa and made himself comfortable on the end. Sherlock sagged down and lay his head in John's lap. He also took John's hand and placed it gently on his head. John took the hint and began slowly carding his fingers through Sherlock's curls. Eyes closed and a look of deep contentment on his face Sherlock went back to his mind palace to finish up.

John was entranced. He loved it when Sherlock was lost in thought. His face was so expressive, so unlike the way he was when his eyes were open. When Sherlock was lost in thought everything played out over his face. After so many years as friends John could read some of what was going on.

Sherlock was almost overwhelmed with the need for sensation. He had spent his entire life ignoring the biological urges of his transport that now he needed a crash course in understanding his own feelings. John knew that Sherlock was going over every touch, every embrace carefully. Sherlock would sort through every degree of difference, note all his responses deliberate or unconscious.

Eventually Sherlock got up and absently picked up his violin. He was running on autopilot, John could see that clearly. Smiling he just picked up his still warm tea and sipped it. Sherlock wandered to the kitchen and began to play near the window. The music was thoughtful, delicate and hung in the air in soft gentle notes. John shifted so he could watch his lover easier.


	14. Fur Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moonlight is more than just romantic.

Sherlock began to sway and dance in place as he lost himself in music and thought. John was in raptures. The music alone was enough to make him feel bittersweet and filled with promise. Seeing Sherlock unshackle himself from the stiffly formal person he was when he was self aware was always beautiful. Now that John had tasted the passion that was hidden deep inside seeing Sherlock play was the most erotic thing he could have ever witnessed.

John was off the sofa and next to the window before he realized he was even moving. He'd shut the lights off in the flat as he had walked passed the panel and now they were in darkness. Sherlock simply shifted out of the way smoothly to allow John to push the curtain open. It was a full moon tonight and John wanted to see Sherlock bathed in it. He gasped when he turned back. Sherlock glowed and it was breathtaking.

“John.” John's name hung in the room like the music. The single syllable was filled with hunger and yearning, passion and devotion. John realized the music had stopped, that Sherlock had carefully placed his beloved violin down on the table and discarded the bow as well. “John you are so beautiful.”

Sherlock came to stand right in front of John, turning him so the moonlight washed over them both. John could hear everything. He could smell everything. Although it was dark in the kitchen he could see everything clearly. He let his gaze wander up the creamy expanse of Sherlock's barely clad chest, over the milky pillar of his neck and up until he reached his brilliant eyes. They were almost silver, jeweled flecks of color seemed to almost shift and move in the moonlight. Sherlock gasped. “Your eyes John! Your eyes are like living gems. I...I feel strange.”

John did too. He felt like he was melting but in a delicious sort of way. He felt his chest rumble, felt his body become heavier. John looked into Sherlock's face and saw it shifting in front of him. He heard another rumble and realized that both he and Sherlock were growling. John should have felt fear but he didn't. He wasn't scared or worried at all. Sherlock was in front of him and that's all that seemed to matter.

They clutched at one another until it wasn't working anymore. Their arms and hands seemed to change. They dropped to the floor and shook their heads. They ended up shaking themselves all over and were very startled when fur bloomed instantly everywhere. By the time they'd stilled the change was complete.

“John?” Sherlock hadn't said anything but John read the question in his eyes and by the set of his body. John was now looking at a wolf. A raven black wolf with glowing silver eyes. “John you're adorable!”

John growled. Adorable? He'd better be a damn wolf too and not some cocker spaniel. He raced off to Sherlock's room to look in the stand up mirror there. Running on four legs seemed very natural. John stared at the reflection. If he could have he would have sighed with relief. John was also a wolf! Thank goodness for that. Sherlock arrived right after him and they stared at each other.

John was honey colored and his fur was thick and full. He was stocky and his eyes were almost electric blue, dark and shining. He was perfectly proportioned if somewhat stout compared to the sensuously lanky dangerousness that was Sherlock. Of course. Sherlock looked mean and wild, his black fur all tousled and long. He towered over John. “I look like a mess!” complained Sherlock wordlessly. He was always so vain. “Your fur is perfect. Why does mine look like crows were nesting in it?”

“Maybe if you combed your hair more than once a week your fur would have come in neatly. Why are we not upset that we've just apparently turned into wolves?” John realized that he wasn't concerned at all but he was mildly curious. Sherlock didn't answer. He was too busy nosing his way all over John. He nudged and snuffled everywhere. John joined him and soon both of them were sniffing each other rather intimately. They pulled apart in surprise.

“Oh. Sorry.” Sherlock managed to look like he was blushing. His ears flattened down a bit and his silver eyes cut away as his long bushy tail tucked between his hindquarters. John was charmed by the timid display. He barked out a small laugh and Sherlock cuddled right up to him playfully. They wrestled around, mouths snapping and teeth flashing until John finally took Sherlock's long neck in his teeth and shook slightly. Sherlock's entire body went limp and he collapsed on the floor belly up. John nosed him all over before biting Sherlock's neck gently once again. Sherlock whined, “Yours!”

John let go and licked Sherlock's muzzle tenderly. He rubbed his head over Sherlock's body, putting his scent all over the younger wolf. It seemed very natural then to just mount him. Sherlock's tail gave him a bit of a pause but in no time John had figured everything out and thrust deep. Sherlock yelped but allowed it. John's body knew what to do. He held onto Sherlock's unresisting body with his front paws dug deep into the black fur. His hips thrust hard and fast and the orgasm seemed to arrive almost instantly. He felt a strange thickening and instinctively pushed himself as deep as he could.

Sherlock howled. His body thrashed and scraped at the carpet as John knotted him. His wild black fur seemed to ripple and for a second John thought he was in pain. The next howl that was let loose was low and filled with voluptuousness. John couldn't remove himself. His knot had lodged tight inside Sherlock who seemed to be orgasming continuously because of it.

Sherlock clenched down hard, causing John to buck forward. Now both of them were howling, the tenor and baritone calls mingling together in a glorious harmony. John continued making shallow thrusts, milking every last gasp from both of them. It seemed to last forever before the knot softened and John was able to slip free.

Sherlock was up and lapping at John in a heartbeat. He twisted his head down and under John's body, his long rough tongue cleaning every droplet he could find. When he was finally done John pushed him down and did the same thing. He nudged Sherlock once more and both of them jumped up onto the bed. Curling up tight with one another, John lay his head onto Sherlock's and they fell asleep.


	15. Seeking the Facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are questions that need answers.

They woke up human. The room reeked of dogs and sex. Sherlock's eyes were back to normal and when he looked down at John his face was filled with intent curiosity. “John. We have to learn more about what happened. We're werewolves! Real ones! I have to find out how. I was on the wrong line of inquiry entirely. I thought it was poachers. There are protected species in that woods.”

“I am not adorable!” insisted John. For some reason it seemed very important to clarify that. Sherlock just laughed delightedly.

“No indeed John. You were masterful. Wonderful. Perfect.” The last word was matched with a suggestive growl before Sherlock kissed John passionately. “You are an alpha. Clearly. I am your omega. Absolute perfection. Oh my soldier!” Sherlock was very affectionate. He rubbed himself all over John and kissed him everywhere. John lay back and accepted Sherlock's devotions as something natural and expected. When the young man was finished worshiping he lay his head back onto John's chest and smiled happily.

“This is the second best thing to ever happen to me.” stated the young man happily. John looked down just as Sherlock looked up. “The first best thing was meeting you John.”

Oh Sherlock. John had to kiss him for saying something so romantic. Sherlock just melted into his arms and gave John whatever he wanted. John settled for a languorous kiss. Sherlock's body must be aching by now. It had endured a lot of things in the last short while. “Come on darling. We should get up. I want to check you over.”

They went to the washroom and John examined Sherlock everywhere. He didn't seem to have any aches or pains. John went so far as to press a gentle finger over Sherlock's anus but all that got him was an interesting moan. “Maybe later darling. I know you don't feel any pain right now but you've just asked a lot of yourself and it will take some adjusting. No need to rush.” Sherlock whined but John just gave him a look and Sherlock shut up.

“Interesting John. Do you realize we haven't used any words since we woke up?” John stopped his examination. The ability to read one another's body language the way wolves did seemed to translate over even when they were in their human bodies. Sherlock was excited. “Imagine how useful this is going to be when we're on a case. We can communicate with one another secretly!”

“This is weird as hell though Sherlock! You were right. We need to find out what happened. I think we should get dressed and head back to those woods for a look around. Come on. Breakfast.” Sherlock just followed John to the bedroom and put on whatever John laid out for him without protest. John retreated to his own bedroom to get into clothing he could climb around in. After a little thought he put together a change of clothes in an overnight bag and went to Sherlock's room to do the same, stuffing everything together. 

“Ask Mycroft to rent us a car darling. They want us to get out of town anyway.” Sherlock was on the phone only a second later, bargaining sharply with his older brother before manipulating him into not just renting them a vehicle but getting them a small caravan to get away in. 

“I must have really annoyed Lestrade. He was practically volunteering to drop it off if it meant we left sooner.” remarked Sherlock after he hung up. John laughed and made breakfast. During the conversation he had needed to stifle his laughter because he could read Sherlock's unspoken exclamations and insults even as Sherlock's voice stayed cool and calm. “I think we should pack more John. They're renting us a unit for a week.”

“Okay Sherlock. I'll cook. You go pack. Be sensible about it.” Sherlock whirled away with a flamboyant flair of his robe, taking the overnight bag with him. John chuckled tolerantly and decided to make as much food as he could. He was very hungry once again. By the time he'd cooked a massive breakfast Sherlock had dragged down two huge suitcases.

“I brought some extra things in case we needed them. I couldn't find your bullets but I packed your gun.” John thought of where he'd left his bullets. In his wardrobe underneath the cleaning kit. Sherlock stood there for a second. “Oh, I didn't look there.” and just left, coming back a minute later with a box of bullets.

“Are we telepathic or something?” wondered John to himself as he stood there stirring carefully. He was fairly certain he hadn't said anything to Sherlock about the bullets.

“We might be John. I'm not looking at you and I can hear every word.” replied Sherlock who was in the living room. John tested the theory and thought of something else he wondered if Sherlock had thought to pack. “Yes the lube is in my bag John. Really. As if I would neglect that.”

John could feel Sherlock's blush and sent soothing and appreciative thoughts towards him, pleased that his mate had done a good job. He felt Sherlock's blush subside and pride replace it. The young man felt valued and loved so John was content. Sherlock was an amazing man and John felt lucky to be the one who got to appreciate him up close.

Sherlock was suddenly behind him, wrapping his arms tight around John's midsection. “I'm glad it's you too John. I do love you.” Sherlock laid his head onto John's in an oddly submissive way for someone who was over half a foot taller than his lover. To John it felt right and proper. Sherlock swelled with love and pride once more and returned to his packing duties.

Sherlock's mobile chimed. He read the text quickly, “The caravan will be delivered to Mycroft's place. We can pick it up there after we eat.” Sherlock sat himself at the table and ate up every bite of the huge breakfast John laid out for him. He left not one crumb behind. John finished a short while after and Sherlock almost preened with pride at having done such a good job eating. John petted him for a second before cleaning up.


	16. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get out of Town.

When they were ready John helped Sherlock into his long coat and Sherlock helped John into his. Holding hands they went downstairs where Sherlock flagged a taxi down effortlessly. They were on their way to Mycroft's in a few minutes. During the drive John assessed the contents of his wallet. “We'll need to stop at the bank on our way out of town.”

Sherlock hummed his agreement and seemed to just enjoy the motions of the ride. John suddenly thought of how dogs liked to hang their heads out of windows to enjoy the breeze and wondered for a second if Sherlock was going to do the same. Both men burst out laughing, the driver glancing in his mirror to see what was going on since neither of them had said a word. John had just enough cash to pay for the trip when they finally arrived at Mycroft's spacious townhouse.

The caravan was one of the models that had the driver's portion attached to the sleeping compartment. It seemed small. Gregory and Mycroft were waiting beside it with the key. Sherlock looked at the camper and suddenly looked so young. “Thank you brother.” he said sincerely and Mycroft visibly softened. He allowed Sherlock a small hug while John shook Greg's hand farewell. “We'll call when we return.”

“Very well little brother. Do try to stay out of trouble. We're terribly busy.” John made the promise for him.

“I'll try to keep a leash on him Mycroft. I don't want to get killed out in the English countryside. We'll just tour around for a few days until everything cools down.” John shook Mycroft's hand as well before taking possession of the key. Chivying Sherlock out loud they hauled in their suitcases and looked around quickly. There was a double bed in the back, a tiny lavatory, a small kitchen area and a small sofa. It would be cramped but private at least. Sherlock dumped the suitcases onto the bed and they got going.

“Bank first John. We don't have a lot of time.” Somehow John got the impression that time was certainly an issue even though it was early in the business day. Sherlock shifted nervously in his seat for a minute before John read him completely.

“You little bastard! You lifted his card.” Sherlock shot John a cheeky grin. “Make it fast love.” John parked in front of the bank and let Sherlock sashay in all on his own. He felt a momentary disorientation when he realized he could still hear and feel everything about Sherlock. He sent an invisible pinch to Sherlock's bum.

“Stop it John. You'll ruin everything.” huffed Sherlock in his mind. John chuckled again and sat back to enjoy the strange interaction. Sherlock stalked right up to the teller and loudly demanded a cash withdrawal of large proportions. The clerk ran the card through the system and in a few minutes Sherlock simply walked back out of the bank. He'd taken out several thousand pounds. John laughed loudly and made Sherlock answer the phone when it rang just as they were leaving the city.

“You stole my card and my money!” shouted Mycroft. “I should make you pay back every cent except that poor John obviously puts up with so much! Enjoy your vacation brother. On me.” He hung up before Sherlock could get a word in. Well it was hardly the first time Sherlock had scammed money off of his older brother.

A text arrived a few minutes later. “He canceled the card. It's just plastic now.” John laughed with Sherlock, sharing the young man's glee in getting one over his otherwise stuffy brother. Mycroft had a vast personal fortune as did Sherlock but Sherlock wasn't allowed to touch his money. He got a bit through a trust fund but generally John paid the way. John enjoyed being the breadwinner. Mycroft was probably already transferring funds from Sherlock's accounts back into his own to recoup the money Sherlock had pinched.


	17. In The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best place to start is where it all began.

A couple of hours later they were pulling into a campsite to book a lot for their caravan. Once they secured a spot they pulled out again and returned to the woods they had been to a month ago. Now John made Sherlock take him through everything that had brought them there in the first place.

People had been seeing and hearing strange things in this bit of woods for almost four years now. Some said they'd seen a woman or possibly small a man, sometimes a dog or something dog like but there were never any clear reports about anything and by the time anyone came around to look at footprints or other evidence it had been marred or ruined. Sherlock had complied a list of the sightings and found that most of them had occurred within a small margin of one another. That's where he'd run away on John, lost in his own excitement about potential discoveries.

“I'm sorry I worried you so much.” Sherlock cuddled up to John who was radiating all the fear and panic he'd felt when he had found Sherlock curled up on the back seat of their rental. “Now that we know a bit more, I think we can find out much more since we've changed.”

“You are staying beside me at ALL TIMES Sherlock. I don't want to lose sight of you for even a moment.” Sherlock almost dropped to the floor in submission at John's forceful words. John held him tight and kissed him fiercely. “I love you Sherlock. I would die if anything happened to you. I mean it.”

Sherlock was shocked because John wasn't joking. He could feel the sincerity from the shorter man. If Sherlock were lost to him John would simply cease to exist. He met John's unwavering gaze, “Never my love. I won't risk anything. I swear to stay by you for now and always.” John could feel the truth of Sherlock's words and they settled on him like a vow.

Sherlock shivered all over. “I feel strange John. Like I'm waiting for something.” John stood up and pulled Sherlock to him.

“I promise to stay by you until the end of our days Sherlock. All I want is to be able to keep loving you, any way that you'll let me.” Now both of them shivered again and John felt his words settle on Sherlock. They kissed one another with great tenderness, nosing at each other's necks and mouths for a long minute. “I think we just bonded.”

Sherlock nodded. “I feel right. I feel finished. I'm entirely yours John.” The young man wrapped his arms tight around John and rested his head on his shoulders, scooting down a bit to do so. “I love you John. So very much.”

John kissed Sherlock's face tenderly and was overwhelmed with love for the strange man in his arms. Sherlock was so brilliant, so clever, so quick, so beautiful. “You think I'm beautiful?” asked Sherlock softly. He had to know the truth of it. John couldn't hide anything from him anymore, not that he wanted to.

“I think you are the most beautiful person in the world. I always have, right from the minute we met.” John remembered how confused he had felt when he had met Sherlock all those years ago. How shocked he had been to find himself physically drawn to this long lean enigma. He was graceful and elegant, a work of art. When he had turned to look at John that first time it took everything in John not to gasp with admiration at the face he was shown. “Your eyes are mysterious and unusual, your cheekbones beg for kisses as does your neck. I've wanted to kiss that wicked mouth of yours silent so many times.”

“I think I can bear a little kissing right now.” murmured Sherlock as he stood up to his full height again. He pressed his warm mouth over John's. They simply held one another tightly together for a long minute. Sherlock pulled back and admired John.

John now knew that Sherlock had been attracted to John for just as long. He found the silver in John's hair to be captivating, that the blue of John's eyes had made Sherlock sigh with want a thousand different times, that watching John do something like drinking his tea made Sherlock almost tremble with a desire he didn't recognize. He loved John's compact body, the quiet strength of him, the endless patience he had and how easily he had fit into Sherlock's life. John's scars were Sherlock's favorite though. He adored how they reflected John's bravery and commitment to what he believed in. He treasured the scar on John's shoulder and each scar John had earned during his time with Sherlock.

Sherlock nudged John's chin with his jaw and caught his eyes, “I'm glad you were my first John. My first everything. My only everything. I can only hope to continue deserving you.”

John kissed his lover tenderly, “Wolves mate for life darling. I think you're safe. I don't want you to think you need to change anything about yourself. I love you just as you are, I always have.”

Sherlock grinned down at him. “Shall we?” He took John's hand and they left the caravan safely locked up, each man tucking a key into a pocket. “I don't plan on getting separated but our luck for getting into trouble has always been good. Let's just keep planning for the worst.”


	18. Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock explore an area of interest to them seeking answers.

They strolled down the path hand in hand. Sherlock explained all the different clues he'd put together to get them to their eventual destination. In daylight the path was hard to see where it veered away from the main trail. If Sherlock hadn't pushed a branch back a certain way John never would have seen it. They followed the trail which veered back and forth raggedly. Eventually they were deep in the woods and near a small stream the ran against a small outcropping of rocks. Sherlock pointed carefully, “There, near the center, there's a break in the rocks. We can walk right up to it if we keep on the tallest rocks.

A series of random seeming stones rose jaggedly out of the briskly running stream. “You tried to go in while it was dark didn't you.” said John flatly. Sherlock could have broken his neck, or drowned, or at least hurt himself severely. John felt the rush of penitent apology and said nothing more. Sherlock had gotten carried away like always and had not paused to consider the dangers. He never did. That was John's job.

“If we can shift on purpose it would be very simple to get to the entrance.” mused Sherlock. John nodded. They'd never tried. He'd just assumed that it was the moonlight that made it happen. Maybe that was the trigger because now when they thought of it their bodies just shifted. It happened almost instantly, like a whole body sneeze that resulted in extra legs and fur. Sherlock wagged his tail happily and nosed John eagerly.

“Go ahead darling. I'll follow.” John signed. Sherlock blinked his understanding and delicately made his way over the rocks. His smaller feet fit easily and soon he was perched on the last rock, looking at John over his shaggy shoulder. John sniffed at the water then stretched himself out to get to the first rock. It was incredibly easy. His wolf body was balanced and very mobile. He made it from rock to rock until he was just behind Sherlock. The entrance was curved so he couldn't see far inside but there was a flattish portion there. “Jump.”

Sherlock jumped and scrabbled in. His thoughts told John there was a wide open space just inside that ran under the bank above. John jumped in after him. “Stay a wolf darling. We can see better this way.”

Sherlock ducked his head and began to sniff around. John cast his head back and forth carefully and worked his way around the long chamber they found themselves in. It was damp and filled with rounded stones where water had once run across it. As the stream shifted away over time it had left behind a smooth cave. There was a tunnel in the back.

This time Sherlock followed John who proceeded with caution. The tunnel was short but no problem for two wolves. The floor was smooth but curved up to the sides. It had obviously been hollowed out by water over a long period of time. No hand or tool was used to make this passageway. They began to smell something, a strangely familiar scent as well as the heavy odor of things that lived far underground.

The path ended in another small chamber. There was a rough bed made of driftwood tucked into a far corner and the lights inside seemed to be made of glow worms that had been caught and stored in discarded soda bottles. “So pup. You've returned. Mated already. Well that was fast.”


	19. She'll Be Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've found what they sought but what they learn!

There was an old woman laying there. She was gray and wrinkled and clearly unwell. “I don't have a name. You can call me Mother if you want since I made you.” She sat up, the animal hides covering her revealing a tiny woman dressed in more furs. Her hair was silver as were her eyes. “I haven't made a pup for centuries. I'm in my last hours, I needed to continue the line and I haven't met one of our kind in decades. You literally fell into my lap and I did not hesitate to bite. Well pup. Have you nothing to say?”

“What are you Mother? How did you make me? How long do you live? Can we help you at all? How long can we expect to live? What are our attributes now? What are the dangers.” Sherlock's questions came pouring out and Mother laughed with delight.

“Smart. You're smart. Good, that's very good. So few of my pups have had more than sex on the brain. You, mate. You're strong. Fierce. That's also good. Two for the price of one. That's very good. Well come here pups. Let Mother teach you. I don't have long so listen with all of yourself.” They understood. She wasn't just using words. She was communicating with her body as well as her mind. John and Sherlock knelt in front of her as she unfolded all she knew about herself and her kind.

“We're rare. Werewolves don't increase often. It's not easy. Once you've matured your teeth bear a special venom that's only active for a short period of time. I was only strong enough to turn one of you. It takes a long time for the venom to renew but when you're a newborn it's easily transmitted if injected directly into the blood of someone you already love. There has to be an emotional connection. You can't turn someone like that unless the connection is powerful. You must have bitten your mate that very same day. Both of you probably had a fever. I'm right aren't I. Of course I am. You're too young to hide anything from Mother. You won't be able to change anyone for at least a year. Your body will tell you when it's possible. Decide carefully who you choose. You may have to be around them for a very long time. I can't tell you much about how long we can live. I was born so long ago I don't remember what the world was like but I have dim memories of seeing metal for the first time and giving up my stone weapons for them.

Centuries, possibly thousands of years. Mother was ancient. She huffed a laugh at our amazement. “Oh we can die pups, just like everyone can die. It's just not so easy to make it stick with a werewolf. You are only seriously vulnerable until your first full moon. That was yesterday. After that it doesn't seem to matter what phase the moon is in or whether it's night or day. Still. As far as I know all of my pups are dead and gone, usually because they've gotten cocky about how well they heal. Split your heart in two or destroy your brain and you will die. Your mate might very well die with you. He won't want to live without you. I barely survived the loss of my mate. I only did it because I had a pup at the time, one that would not have made it without me. I still grieve for him. After that I made pups but I never loved again. It was just centuries of loneliness. I don't recommend it.”

She sat back and we helped her by piling her furs up as something to lean on. She was getting weaker by the minute. “It's too late for me to tell you about bonding. It's done now and can't be undone. However you managed it you did it exactly the right way. That's rarer than meeting a werewolf at all. Now that you can shift you can read each other's thoughts and feelings anywhere in the world if you aren't doing it already. You've already sorted out the dominance issue. Though my first pup is bigger I can see the smaller of you is the stronger. A soldier too by the smell of things. A healer as well? How unusual. As for pitfalls, this one should throw you both for a loop.”

John and I sat back when her next thought registered. “Pregnancy! Sherlock can get pregnant!” the young man almost fainted with shock and Mother cackled. How was that even possible!

“Your gender doesn't matter pup. Your body is already growing the parts inside you to manifest a child. It will be five or so years before it's done though and after that you will be able to get pregnant but only during your heats and only when you decide to become pregnant. You can actually choose to not bear and your body will not quicken. Convenient that, otherwise I would have born a thousand babies by now.”

Now she transmitted a dizzying array of information about childbirth and conception, how Sherlock would be able to bear and feed multiple babies at the same time if he wanted and after he was done his body would simply re-adapt to it's normal appearance. “Breasts! I'll have six breasts!” Sherlock shouted angrily. John didn't know whether or not to laugh or cry. It was all too much.

“Your children will be fully human as well. They aren't born werewolves though they will have increased intelligence, strength and beauty. What they make of those gifts is up to them. They will live and die a normal lifespan and cannot be changed. Your venom will not work on your progeny. No one's venom will. I'm sorry, I don't know why. I would have kept all my children if I could have.” Sherlock was upset again but this time John knew he was already grieving the loss of children they hadn't had yet. With centuries of life in front of them how many babies would they outlive?

“You'll also heal incredibly fast which is a good thing because sex tends to be a bit on the rough side. Drugs won't work on you anymore now that you can shift so say goodbye to any of those modern habits. Your appetites will increase and everything about your should work perfectly until your last days. Less than two months ago I looked like a girl less than two decades old. This how it happens in the end.”


	20. The Whole Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother gives answers.

“I have so many questions Mother.” said Sherlock sadly. She was clearly fading fast. She looked up at him. “I can bear it. Please Mother.” John knew what Sherlock was asking and he sent silent approval. Sherlock could bear it, he knew. Mother reached out a hand and Sherlock took it. Both of them tensed then as she gave him all her memories, all her experiences, all her knowledge in one massive burst of sharing. John caught Sherlock as he fell back in a daze. He stroked his mate's face anxiously until his beautiful eyes opened and fixed on his. “She's gone.”

She was. Right in front of them her body seemed to collapse in on itself. Her skin seemed to dry out and stretch over her bones. For a moment they saw long canines but everything collapsed into dust. Without thinking they pulled her driftwood bed apart and cast the pieces into the stream. They left the hides where they were. They'd rot away or be nibbled to pieces by the denizens of the area. They emptied out the bottles and packed them into a shopping bag John had in his coat for disposal.

They shifted. John took the bag of bottles up into his mouth and followed Sherlock out of the cave and back to the shore. They shrugged themselves back into their human bodies. “I wonder where our clothes and things go. Look, my wallet is still in my pocket.” John dug around and looked at all the things that he had stored on his person. He hadn't noticed at all when they'd shifted before. He saw the tips of his shoes were wet where his paws had slipped into the water.

Sherlock just stepped closer and wrapped his arms tight around John. John held his mate tightly, giving him the love and support he needed. Sherlock kissed John's head and pulled back. John was surprised to see that tears were tracing their way down Sherlock's face. “I'm so glad it's you John! We'll be together forever almost. You and I. It's a miracle. I was so afraid. I worried about how few years we might have together but that's not going to be the way of it. I won't lose you any time soon. We'll be together John.”

John understood. He wasn't a young man. He wouldn't get younger but he knew he wouldn't grow visibly older until he was at the end of his now extended lifespan. Sherlock would always remain dark and youthful. Though John only had a few years on his lover his soldier's lifestyle had etched his years into his face. Sherlock was almost preternaturally young looking, only his eyes betrayed him. His eyes were old, even before the change. Both of them realized they had been standing there admiring one another. John kissed Sherlock tenderly, “You will be lovely forever my darling. I'm a lucky man.”

“You'll always look gorgeous and tempting John. I love the lines on your face, the gray in your hair. I'll never have that. I'll be a blank slate forever.” John just shook his head and thought about everything he loved about Sherlock until the young man smiled once more. John looked at his creamy skin, the shine of his dark curls, the unearthly flexibility that was Sherlock's all on his own and that ass! It would never sag or soften with age. John leered at Sherlock and the young man blushed right down to his toes. 

“John. Really.” Now John was blushing as Sherlock looked him over and felt how Sherlock appreciated the curve and heft of his own ass, his cock, his arms and everything else about John's body. John had never thought about his own behind as being particularly sexy but apparently Sherlock found it more than a little drool worthy.

“My nose? Really Sherlock?” said John with surprise when he discovered that Sherlock thought John's nose was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Sherlock grinned and kissed the beloved feature tenderly.

“It's pointy. Adorable. So much better than mine.” Well John thought everything about Sherlock's face was incredibly beautiful. They stood there admiring one another for another minute before making their way back to the main paths. There was no reason not to continue their vacation. They had no worries of any kind, not anymore.


	21. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have decisions to make

Two years passed before it became necessary to tell Mycroft. Until then they'd continued as they always had, solving crimes and driving each other spare. Now they had the advantage of make up sex so sometimes the arguments weren't strictly necessary. Neither man complained. They had planned to keep their condition a secret from everyone except that something happened.

Greg got sick. Mycroft did his best to hide the worry but John had smelled death on Greg's body. “It's cancer Sherlock. They'll never get it out in time. It's spreading like wildfire. They didn't catch it in early enough. It's the beginning of the end for him. Mycroft is going to lose his husband.” Sherlock was wild with grief and worry. Despite how they treated one another he loved his brother deeply and respected Greg for all that he had done for both Sherlock and John.

They went to see the couple. Mycroft had a room in their spacious home converted into a space suitable for a convalescent to recuperate without feeling like they were hooked up to every machine imaginable. Except someone was. Greg still looked the same despite everything that ran in and out of his flesh. His hair was still thickly silver and his body was still strong. He was dying from the inside out.

John and Sherlock stood by Greg's bed holding hands. They spoke to one another in their thoughts and made the decision together. Greg was telling Sherlock how he was feeling alright and that they shouldn't have troubled themselves. John went over to Mycroft who was showing the strain beneath his otherwise impervious mask of indifference. “Now” thought John.

Sherlock leaned over Greg on the hospital bed and John used the element of surprise to yank Mycroft closer. The wolves bit at the exact same time, felt the venom escape from their teeth, smelled it enter the bloodstreams of the other two men. “John Watson what in the world are you doing!” demanded Mycroft who pulled away suddenly, his long fingers clapped over the slightly bloody bite in his neck.

“Fucking Christ Sherlock! You fucking BIT ME!” Greg was laying on the bed looking stunned and shocked. Blood trickled down his neck and seemed to reabsorb into his skin. John and Sherlock retreated together and stood side by side. “What the fuck were you doing!”

“Saving you Greg. For Mycroft. I couldn't let my brother lose the man he loves. It would destroy him. He's my only brother. I couldn't let that happen to him, not when John and I can prevent it.” Sherlock spoke so gently. He was sending soothing feelings towards the other two though it would be a couple of days before they could interpret what was happening to them. Both of them were already looking feverish.

John stepped forward and quickly shut off all the monitors before they began going crazy. Mycroft shouted in fearful anger. Sherlock stepped between he and John. “Brother. Look at me. Listen to me. John and I were changed, two years ago. We were infected if you will, something that prevents us from getting ill or getting old. We had one chance to save Greg and we just took it. We've infected both of you. Please. Trust what you are about to see, what you are about to experience.”

Mycroft shoved his little brother away and took Greg's hand, looking savagely angry and simultaneously filled with despair. “You infected us! With what? Greg can't bear being sick. His body can't handle it. You may have just killed him.” Mycroft's voice broke on the last word and John couldn't bear to delay.

“Just do it darling. Now.” They shifted. Suddenly Mycroft was looking down at two wolves sitting by Greg's bed. Sherlock's tongue lolled out and he seemed to be grinning. John and Sherlock let them soak in their appearance then shifted back. It was easy now, as easy as thinking about it.

“Oh my god. I didn't just see that.” Mycroft croaked. Greg was gripping his husband's hand so tight that his knuckles were white. “Greg? My dear are you alright?”

“They just turned into fucking DOGS Mycroft! Dogs!” Greg sounded weak and disbelieving.

“Excuse me! Wolves, thank you very much. We've just saved your life. You're welcome.” John couldn't help but be a little sarcastic. Who mistook a wolf for a dog? “We're werewolves. You are now as well. It will take a couple of days but the infection will remove anything unhealthy from both your bodies and give you some surprising bonuses. Sherlock sniffed the air suddenly and strode to Mycroft. He sniffed his brother's shocked face before barking out a laugh. He quickly smelled Greg before returning to John. Neither man moved a hair while Sherlock smelled them.


	22. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don't really have a choice but Mycroft and Greg accept the gift they've been given.

Silently he reported, “John! Mycroft is an omega! Greg's the alpha. Less than you though. Almost a beta.” now we both laughed. We'd wait a bit before we told Mycroft about his upcoming ability to be the mother he always claimed he was. We had learned so much about ourselves over the last two years. Mother's gift was large and it had taken Sherlock a long time to go through her memories even once.

Mycroft pressed a worried hand to Greg's forehead. “He's burning up. What have you done!” John moved forward and pressed a professional hand to Greg's forehead. He was hot but not worryingly so. He sniffed and smelled the blackness inside Greg growing smaller. He sighed with relief. He hadn't been totally sure it would work.

“We've fixed him. It's working. The cancer is leaving. By tomorrow it will be all gone and Greg's body will have completed the transformation just as yours will. Tonight try to rest a lot, eat as much as you can manage and don't panic. It won't help or change anything. The infection is permanent.

For the first time ever John heard Sherlock speak to his brother with love, “Brother. I know you don't want to hope but it's alright. I would never harm you or Greg. John and I would never allow anything to happen to either of you. We've been watching over both of you for two years now. I refuse to let you to be alone! Our lives have been rich in solitude thus far. I won't let you slip back into it again. Greg is getting better with every breath he draws. He will be with you for many years. Centuries.”

“The full moon is in a week. By then Greg should be totally alright. You'll make your first full shift then. You'll want to take the week off Mycroft. Your hormones are going to go a little crazy as soon as Greg is up to it.” Those first few months with Sherlock had been ones of endless passion. They'd almost been unable to do anything else. Sherlock refused cases until The Yard almost stopped calling them entirely. John stopped working at the clinic and they had spent all their hours in bed together.

“Brother what have you done to us.” asked Mycroft weakly. His face was flushed so John got him a chair and made him sit beside Greg's bed before fetching them both water to drink. “Why haven't you told us until now?”

Sherlock thought a moment before answering. “The less people know the safer we are. We haven't come across another werewolf in two years. Our maker said she hadn't seen one in decades, had thought she might be the last of her line. Until you were going to lose your husband years earlier than we expected John and I had no intention of letting anyone know, if only to protect ourselves. Think of Baskerville. Think of madmen like Moriarty. What would happen to us if we were caught? No one must know. When the time is ripe we will disappear and begin new somewhere else. Perhaps I should have told you but at what risk? You can't divulge information you do not possess.”

“So you're the leader of the pack now?” asked Greg with a small smile. He was getting used to the idea and they knew the older man was feeling better every minute. The fever that came with the change was nothing compared to the sickness that had gnawed away his insides. In a few hours all the cancer would be gone.

“No. John is. You should be able to tell by now.” Both Mycroft and Greg smelled the air. Both their eyes widened in surprise. “I know how you feel. He has great presence don't you agree? John is our Alpha. I am his Omega. We made you so technically you are our pups. Don't call us mom and dad. We are bonded. You can bond too, after the full moon. It will make everything else that happens easier. Being a wolf rather like being married except that you can read each other's thoughts and feelings. It was awkward at first but you soon get used to it. John is a marvelous Alpha.”

“Our Mother gave Sherlock all her memories. He's still learning things, even after all this time. She was thousands of years old. We're still not sure how old she was when she passed. He'll answer all your questions later though. Take our advice. Eat lots. Rest as much as you can. I'll unhook Greg so you take him to bed properly to rest. It will all be better in the morning.” John did as he said he would and soon Greg was free of all the monitors. We got up and made to leave but Greg stopped us.

“Can I see you again?” John understood immediately. He blinked at Sherlock and suddenly they were wolves. Sherlock cheekily jumped up onto Greg's bed and licked his hand. “Disgusting! Sherlock you don't get to lick me ever. Mycroft, hand me a sani-wipe.”

Sherlock woofed out a laugh and jumped back down. He stood on his hind legs and looked his older brother in the eye. Mycroft was astounded as he looked deep into those jeweled eyes. “Sherlock. It's really you. Why is your fur so ratty?”

Sherlock shrugged his way back into his human body while John laughed. “You didn't need to go there Mycroft. Come along John. We're leaving.” I can't wait to see if Mycroft's hair dye translates into his wolf body. Sherlock's unspoken comment made John bite his lip to keep from laughing. There were no secrets on the wolf. If Mycroft had gray hairs hidden they would show when he shifted and there was nothing he could do about it. John's gray hair gave his muzzle and temples a grizzled look which Sherlock found almost entirely irresistible.


	23. Puzzles and Prizes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has learned a lot on how to deal with his mate.

Time had only deepened the devotion the young wolf felt for his stalwart mate. As they became accustomed to their new way of being Sherlock found it easier and easier to just allow John to know him completely. It was liberating to have nothing at all to hide. Being wolves made them perfect partners. Problems that might have come up due to Sherlock's inability to recognize his own feelings and act appropriately simply did not happen.

Sometimes Sherlock grew shy but John always rose to the challenge and wooed the young man with poetry and puzzles. Sometimes the poem was also a puzzle but John saved those treats for times when Sherlock grew frantic and unsettled. He was still as brilliant as ever but now he experienced everything on a broader spectrum. Many times it was too much and that's when John would distract his lover with a timely gift.

Today wasn't a frantic day but Sherlock was still unsettled from what they'd had to do. He was unbalanced because of the shift in dynamics between himself and Mycroft. He was worried about the changes both men would have to endure and the long life they had to plan as a family. Mycroft and Greg were now their responsibility, both John and Sherlock felt the obligation right down to their bones. They were a pack now. John produced a small sheet of paper.

Sherlock poured over it instantly: “Where the circle begins and ends the endless cycle of days where no one tarries and all must pass beyond the threshold.” Sherlock stopped walking. His eyes closed and John could see he was searching through his mind palace for clues to John's puzzle. John took his lover's hand and flagged a cab down with some effort. He managed to get Sherlock inside and off they went back to Baker Street, Sherlock lost deep in thought.

John enjoyed it. He made dinner while Sherlock perched on the sofa, fingers tented, his thoughts and feelings playing over his features. John had to keep himself from just staring raptly at the beautiful show that was going on. He compromised by making a baked meal so after it was put together he just tucked it in the oven to be ready for later. He made two cups of tea and sat in his chair to watch.

Sherlock was reviewing and discounting. John watched in amusement as dark curls swung wildly back and forth when Sherlock decided something wasn't relevant. John could practically see the lean form of his lover running through room after room of information, searching for that elusive clue that would help him unravel the mystery.

“Do you need a hint love?” asked John after a while. Sherlock opened his eyes only long enough to frown at John.

“That would be cheating my love. I won't cheat. I can solve this. I have to admit though that your puzzles are getting better. I think I'm on the right track. Hush now.” Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment then reopened them. He picked up his tea and sipped it thoughtfully before setting it back down to resume his eyes-closed-fingers-tented thinking position.

John picked up a book and began to read, content. He was almost surprised when the oven timer went off. Sherlock hadn't budged an inch and was still lost in thought. John made fresh tea, set the table then coughed out a small bark. Sherlock got right up and went to his seat at the table. “Sorry John.”

John had gotten Sherlock on a proper dietary schedule. Though it was still difficult to get the lean man to eat more than the bare minimum most of the time Sherlock had agreed to at least make it to the table on time. Once he got there though all bets were off. No amount of cajoling or threats could make him eat if he didn't want to. Three times a day they went through the process.

Tonight was a breeze. Though Sherlock's body was sitting and eating at the table his mind was off on it's own, chipping away at the clues John had left. Sherlock knew every word mattered. He was taking it all apart, approaching it from every angle. He loved these little diversions because John included a prize with each solution.

Sometimes it was mind blowing sex. Sometimes it was a small gift. It was always something Sherlock enjoyed. How John knew what to get Sherlock couldn't decipher. Although they shared everything, were totally open with one another John still managed to set up these little games without Sherlock knowing anything about it. That thrilled Sherlock nearly as much as the puzzle itself.

John cleared away the meal after it was done and allowed Sherlock to return to the sofa. “Let's go for a walk darling. Coat and scarf, come on.” Sherlock got up again and allowed himself to be put in his coat and scarf. John took his hand and led him out to the street. Sherlock was still lost in thought so John enjoyed the silence, held his lover's hand and walked him through the pathways in the local park.

Sherlock suddenly stopped walking. His eyes widened and he tugged on John's hand. “John. I think I have it. The morgue! The morgue at St Bart's! That's where we met. That's where everyone who dies goes. You can't get legally buried in the city unless you have a death certificate from the morgue! Oh John that was brilliant! Do we get to stop in?”

“Well done love. That took you a bit longer than I anticipated. I'm rather chuffed about that. Come along, it's not far from here.” That's why John took Sherlock for a walk. The hospital was only a few blocks from there. Sherlock hugged John happily. He loved the morgue. Molly still worked there and they had become proper friends with her. John had helped settle her crush on Sherlock and helped Sherlock remember to treat her like someone he valued instead of a resource. Now they stopped in whenever they were on a case or if they were just near enough to pop by.

Sherlock was like a kid. He tugged at John's hand to hurry him along. “There's been all sorts of odd deaths in the city. I wonder what kinds of bodies she has today? Or mystery parts. Those are my favorite. Oh John, this is marvelous.”

They made it to the morgue in short order. Sherlock practically dragged his doctor down the hallways until they pushed through the door. Molly was looking into a microscope. “Oh hello Sherlock. Hi John.”

“Molly I won a prize! Is it lungs? Or kidneys? I've been waiting simply ages for a good liver too.” Molly laughed. She'd been part of John's surprises many times. She indicated a drawer in the cooler and Sherlock bustled over, extremely excited. He didn't notice Molly get up and slip out the door.

Sherlock pulled open the drawer. There was no body. There was however a very small scarlet box. Sherlock stared at it. John stood beside him. Reaching out he picked up the box. Sherlock's eyes locked onto it. He seemed unable to speak and his entire body seemed to have frozen solid. John turned to look Sherlock straight in the eyes.

“Everything good in my life is because of you Sherlock. Everything about you is perfect for me. You are every wonderful thing in the world and I think I'd like everyone to know just how much I love you. Sherlock Holmes, would you do me the very great honor of becoming my husband?” John opened the box and presented a simple gold band with the phases of the moon incised into it.

John allowed his senses to roam and knew that Sherlock was incapable of speaking, incapable of moving, incapable of reacting because he was so entirely overwhelmed. It took a minute for him to collect himself before he was wrapping himself around John, his deep voice rough with emotion, “Yes John. Yes, please yes. Yes I'll marry you.”

A little teary himself John pushed the gold engagement ring onto his fiancé's finger. Though they weren't exactly allergic to silver, wearing it for long periods of time became irritating. Gold was more than fine. It shone beautifully on Sherlock's long pale fingers. Sherlock caught him up in a long passionate kiss so tight that John's feet left the floor. “You clever man! I had no idea. How do you manage that?”

“I figure I only have a limited amount of time before surprising you becomes impossible. Besides, this marriage will hopefully be just the first in a long line of marriages. We're going to be around for a long time. You can propose next life.” Sherlock chuckled at this truth. At some point in the not too distant future they'd need to leave London for a long time and live elsewhere until it was plausible for them to move back without fear of being recognized. John wouldn't be able to get away with not aging as long as Sherlock. In only a couple of years his veteran friends and his medical associates would notice John's body had remained almost entirely unchanged.

There would be time to think of that later. Now Sherlock had this life to deal with. Greg and Mycroft would be feeling better very soon and would need to be taught. They had a long future to plan for. They had cases to solve. They had love to make. Life was good and it was only going to get better.


End file.
